


Stuck in Gravity

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Double Penetration, First Time, Gags, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Light Bondage, M/M, Magical Realism, Minor Keith/Keith (Voltron), Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Season 8 Doesn't Exist, Season/Series 01, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-cest, Threesome - M/M/M, Time Travel, Top Keith (Voltron), Top Shiro (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22295392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: Keith thinks that everyone should be a little more concerned about this supposed "future" him. He's just not buying thatanyversion of himself could be so confident, so happy... so clearly loved.(Or: the "I had to go back in time to teach my younger self that he's worthy of love" time-travel threesome.)
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 105
Kudos: 476





	Stuck in Gravity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatsjustHoneyDewbabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsjustHoneyDewbabe/gifts).



> Request fic written for [Emmy](https://twitter.com/shirosfatchest), who requested some good old fashioned time travel selfcest/threesome for s1 pining sheith + older future Keith. 
> 
> Thank you to [Meg](https://twitter.com/kedawen) for reading this over for me, as always. ♥

“Okay. So. Uh, you’re just… Older Keith, then,” Hunk says. He’s still blinking and looking a bit pale thanks to the sudden appearance of another Keith in the Castle of Lions’ hangar bay. 

No, Keith thinks to himself. Not another Keith. An impostor. A stranger. Some sort of Galra trick. It’s the only logical explanation. 

“Just show up out of the blue? Sounds like something Keith would do,” Pidge says. Her grin is wicked as she elbows Hunk. 

Keith’s shoulders go rigid. He opens his mouth to ask Pidge what the hell she even means by that, but then the impostor _laughs_. 

“I guess it does sound like me,” the impostor agrees, his smile coloring his words and his eyes sparkling. 

It’s the exact opposite of how Keith feels right now, all hunched in himself, his arms crossed, his mouth tensed into a thin line. He can’t tear his eyes away from the stranger— at a man who at once looks painfully familiar and, yet, utterly foreign. 

And then the stranger turns to look at Keith. 

“What year is it now?” he asks, studying Keith’s face. Keith doesn’t answer, his hold on his arms tightening, on guard. Waiting for— something. Keith’s not sure why it’s impossible for him to tear his eyes away from him. 

Pidge pipes up with the current year. Then, with eyes glinting, she shoots back, “So _when_ are _you_ from?” 

The stranger shrugs, his smile turning playful when Pidge whines at his lack of response. Keith just thinks it’s suspicious, especially when the impostor winks at Pidge. 

It makes the hair on the back of Keith’s neck stand on end. He hunches further into himself, glaring daggers at the impostor. Because that’s what he is. It can’t possibly be a Keith from the future. It’s some sort of trick— from Zarkon or his witch, from the Galra Empire in general, or some other alien race out to get Voltron. Infiltrate from within. 

Keith has no idea _why_ they’d send someone who looks like Keith. The team doesn’t trust him. Keith can’t imagine how the idea of _time travel_ can somehow be a convincing enough lie to get into their good graces. Keith doesn’t know how else to describe a little ship appearing in their hangar bay like a blip on a screen, suddenly _there_. But it’s clearly all subterfuge to destroy Voltron from the inside out.

Somehow, Keith’s the only one who’s seeing it this way, though. He watches Pidge and Hunk hook their arms around the impostor’s shoulders and tug him deeper into the Castle. 

Keith follows just to make sure nothing will happen— Allura will put a stop to this. She won’t possibly let something like this happen if it threatens Voltron’s mission. 

-

Allura and Coran run the other Keith through his paces but, to Keith’s shock and distress, Allura seems reassured by the lack of alarm bells from the Castleship. It isn’t responding to Keith like he’s an intruder and, according to Coran, there are lingering quantum atoms clinging to this impostor that suggests the time travel really occurred. 

Future Keith walks through the halls like he knows the place, which seems proof enough to the others that he is who he says he is. But it just makes Keith want to scream at them all, wants to insist they kick him out. They’re all smiles and jovial discussions with this impostor and, as far as Keith can tell, that’s their first mistake: trusting someone who shouldn’t be trusted. 

Keith practically snarls when the other Keith asks after the Lions. 

“You’re not going anywhere near them!” Keith snaps. 

He hears Red in the back of his mind trying to tell him something, but he stops listening. He’ll be damned if he lets some Galra infiltration mission get its hands on any of the Lions. That, and Keith isn’t sure if he can stomach the idea of Red responding to this impostor and not to him. 

The other Keith accepts Keith’s surliness with exceptional patience, which somehow just makes Keith feel even more livid. The impostor shrugs his shoulders and says, “I understand your caution. I don’t blame you.”

Which is damnably annoying. 

What’s most annoying to Keith is that he can _see_ the ways in which this is an older version of himself. He can see the similarities softened by maturity and experience. It is his face, if older. The scar is new, and the hair is longer, but it’s him in the way he scrunches his nose when he holds back a laugh, the way he puts his hands on his hips and tilts his head, or even the way he crosses his arms. His laugh is Keith’s. That knowing smirk is Keith’s. 

What’s most foreign is the way everyone else responds to him. They laugh with him, they tease him. Pidge has elbowed the impostor in the side at least twice, goading and teasing. Hunk’s pat him on the back and given him a big, beaming smile. As far as Keith can remember, they’ve never done that for him. 

“So, no Lions for me,” the stranger says, smiling. “And I don’t quite need a tour.” 

“I suppose we should gather everyone so we can discuss what it means that you’re here,” Allura considers, walking beside him. And even she is warmer and more receptive to this Keith than she’s ever been to Keith himself. 

Keith trails behind them, glaring and distrustful. He feels the weight of his dagger at his back, ready to draw it if he needs to. 

“Of course,” the other Keith agrees, then turns and swans into the training room as they pass by it. 

The same training room where Shiro’s currently working through a set with the bots. 

“Oh,” the other Keith whispers and Keith thinks he might be the only one who heard it, that soft, devotional exhale as his eyes land on Shiro. 

Keith feels his heart drop into his stomach. Not just because of the way the other him stares at Shiro— obvious, _too obvious_ — but because Shiro stops halfway through an arc of his glowing Galran hand to stare back once his eyes land on the impostor, his mouth flopping open.

“K- Keith?” Shiro croaks. 

The other Keith just smiles wider, his eyes brightening over Shiro’s reaction. Shiro, in turn, starts blushing, fumbling a bit as he steps forward and then frowns, spotting the real Keith just over this impostor’s shoulder. 

“What’s going on?” Shiro asks. There’s a furrow in his brow that Keith wants to smooth away with his thumb. But he’s grown used to resisting all things when it comes to casually touching Shiro. He knows it wouldn’t be wanted and certainly not returned. He and Shiro are friends. 

Except apparently the older Keith hasn’t gotten that memo, since his smile is downright moony as he steps to Shiro in a few short, sure strides. His hand lifts and he touches Shiro’s cheek like it’s easy, cupping his jaw, his thumb swiping across Shiro’s cheekbone. 

Keith stares in horror as Shiro’s lips part, eyes widening and cheeks flushing red. 

“Shiro,” the other Keith murmurs reverently. He looks at Shiro exactly as Keith always wants to look at Shiro: like he is beloved. Because he is. Fuck, he is.

Keith snarls as he darts forward, shoving himself between the impostor and Shiro. He plants his hands on the other Keith’s chest and physically pushes him back. The hand leaves Shiro’s cheek immediately. 

“Stay away from him!” 

“Keith—” Shiro says behind him, startled. 

But Keith can’t stop glaring. His entire body feels like it might explode, anger and fire and discomfort and _hating_ to see another version of himself, a face that looks so familiar, staring at Shiro with such open and constant love and affection. It feels too exposing, too vulnerable. _Shiro will see._

This Keith has no right to throw all of Keith’s inner thoughts and secrets out into the open like that, out there for _Shiro_ to see. Terror seizes through Keith at the thought of Shiro _realizing_. 

It’s not that he thinks that Shiro will stop being his friend. But Shiro is kind and Keith will be damned if he makes any situation where Shiro feels awkward or unhappy, if Shiro started carrying guilt on his shoulders, thinking that he’s caused Keith pain through his inevitable rejection. 

Keith doesn’t want to rip his chest open and expose himself to Shiro like that; his heart beats for Shiro and he’s known that since the first moment they ever met and he’s content with what they have. He can’t and never will ask for more. 

The other Keith holds up his hands in a pacifying gesture. He grins, wicked and quicksilver sharp, like he’s about to pull out his dagger and fight Keith over Shiro. His eyes are glittering as he regards Keith, like he’s _proud_ of him. 

“Hands off Shiro,” the older Keith says with a nod. “Got it.” 

Keith trembles and nearly startles out of his skin when Shiro’s heavy hand falls on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Keith hates to tear his eyes away from the impostor, but Shiro always takes precedence. Keith swivels his head around to stare up at Shiro.

“Keith,” Shiro tells him, eyes on him now. “It’s okay.” 

Keith wants to protest. The words are right there in his throat. He can’t understand how Shiro isn’t stunned right now, isn’t raising the alarm, isn’t protesting the sudden invasion of some sort of alien spy shapeshifting to earn their trust only to betray them. 

The other Paladins look between the three of them, but it’s Allura who steps forward and introduces the situation properly to Shiro. Shiro frowns, considering it all, and nods. His hand doesn’t lift from Keith’s shoulder, but it feels less like reassurance and like he’s trying to hold Keith back from attacking. 

Keith isn’t going to attack. He isn’t. Something crawls under his skin and he doesn’t know what it means, doesn’t know why he can’t stop staring at this other Keith, either. 

-

“No one’s being cautious enough,” Keith mutters darkly at dinner. The team’s gathered around the table, regaling this new Keith with questions. The impostor Keith seems in good spirits, drinking when his cup is full and eating the food Hunk dishes onto his plate. 

Everyone is riveted with the stories he tells in turn— about their exploits in the future, all delightfully generic and vague enough as to not give concrete details. Keith still can’t shake the certainty that they’re all being fooled. 

Shiro keeps staring at the other Keith. When Keith catches him, Shiro looks down quickly, cheeks flushing like he’s been caught doing something unsavory. He gives Keith a few shy smiles through his bangs before he focuses on eating, eyes steadily on his plate. 

It’s been a few vargas since the other Keith’s appearance and everyone’s so damn accepting. Allura and Coran swear by the Castle of Lion’s assessment; Pidge ran tests to make sure there was no Galra tech on this Keith. Hell, even _Lance_ doesn’t seem the least bit agitated with this new Keith— he’s too busy being sparkly-eyed over this Keith’s stories of the future in which Lance apparently is a sharpshooter extraordinaire. 

( _I think this is only temporary,_ he’d explained to everyone as Pidge ran her tests. _Don’t worry. I’ll be out of your hair soon._ )

And Shiro’s watching it all, chin in his hand, his smile light and almost serene. When Keith mutters his own observations, Shiro’s eyes slide over to rest on him. 

“Being on guard’s not a bad thing,” he agrees, but then adds, “but I mean…” 

“What?” 

Keith isn’t sure if he wants to hear what Shiro has to say. 

Shiro turns to look at Keith fully, his smile gentle. “I mean, it’s clearly you, isn’t it?” 

“What?” Keith asks again. “He’s nothing like me.” 

“He’s older, sure, but... it’s you,” Shiro tells him. 

Keith stares at Shiro in undisguised shock. He can’t even believe Shiro would say such a thing. 

“He acts nothing like me,” Keith protests. He’ll grant Shiro the physical similarities, but it’s clear this is a more mature and experienced Keith. 

Shiro tilts his head at Keith. He doesn’t protest or argue with Keith, but the fact that he doesn’t hum his agreement means he doesn’t hold the same opinion as Keith. Maybe he doesn’t feel that it’s his place to insist. 

Keith turns his attention back towards the team, huddled around this other Keith, listening to his stories and laughing. 

Keith folds his arms over the table, hunching into himself. He grips his arms tight until he goes white-knuckled. Then he ducks his head down, hiding it in his folded-up arms. Shiro makes a soft sound, his hand sliding over his shoulder and squeezing the back of his neck. It feels like a brand and Keith barely resists the involuntary shiver. Shiro’s touch always does that. 

“Keith…” Shiro begins, his voice satin-smooth and ghosting over his ear, but Keith just wants to feel that heavy weight of Shiro’s hand on the back of his neck and back forever. He just wants to drown in Shiro and not think about anything else for a while. 

Things have been so strange up in space, so strange ever since Shiro returned from his years-long absence. Things have felt _different_ between them. Keith’s never been able to actually come out and say it to Shiro— he’s known his own crush for so long that he can’t even fathom not having it— but lately there’s been something about Shiro, like he’s always on the verge of doing or saying something and yet somehow always holding it back. 

Keith’s long since learned never to imagine that Shiro might care about him, too. They’re friends. He’s content with them being friends. If Keith imagines that Shiro might think of him differently from that, well— that’s just the way of madness. Keith needs to focus on fighting the Galra. He needs to _focus_.

Be patient. Find focus. 

But, no. There’s no sense in being patient here. He could wait for an eternity and Shiro would never see him the way Keith sees Shiro. 

He closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling of Shiro’s hand pressed against his back, like a promise, like an _almost_. 

-

Later that night, Shiro offers to walk the other Keith to the spare room Allura’s assigned to him. Which by proxy means that Keith offers, too, because he’s not letting the other Keith be alone with anyone on the Castle, much less Shiro. 

He follows behind them moodily, ignoring the way Shiro keeps passing him amused glances over his shoulder, like he can’t figure out why Keith’s glowering like a guard dog behind them instead of walking at their side. Keith shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders bunched up. 

Halfway there, Shiro slows his pace so he’s beside Keith instead, nudging him gently with his shoulder. When Keith doesn’t relax, Shiro accepts it and loops his arm around him, cupping his shoulder. Keith closes his eyes and tries not to melt. 

When he opens his eyes again, the other Keith is watching them, his eyes far too soft. Keith glares. 

At the door to the quarters the other Keith’s staying in, he pauses and turns back towards the two of them. His eyes linger on Shiro for a moment too long for Keith’s tastes before they slide over to rest on Keith. Keith hasn’t stopped glaring but the other Keith doesn’t seem too bothered. 

“It’s still new, isn’t it?” the other Keith asks them. 

“What’s new?” Keith barks. 

“You two,” the other him answers, which effectively knocks all the fight out of Keith’s chest. He might actually wheeze, staring at him. The other Keith frowns at the reaction and turns to look at Shiro. “It’s only been a few weeks? Or about a month, maybe? Everyone always teases me for not remembering since it wasn’t _that_ long ago, but…” 

Shiro and Keith stand there in a shocked silence. Keith is cosmically aware of the drape of Shiro’s arm around him, how still he’s gone standing beside him. 

Shiro is wide-eyed, blushing up to his ears when he chokes out, “Keith and I— we’re not—” 

He fumbles, looking stricken. He guiltily pulls his arm away from Keith and Keith mourns the loss immediately. 

“Keith and I aren’t— we’re not _together_ ,” Shiro whispers. 

“Oh,” the other Keith says in a soft voice. That confidence he’s exuded since appearing has finally disappeared, his own eyes widening as he realizes his mistake. “Oh,” he says again. “My mistake. You’re, uh— what’s the possibility you’ll forget I said anything?” 

Keith reminds himself that this impostor is trying to trick them all, that he’s trying to dismantle the team and get their guards down. That’s why he’s saying this now. He’s pretending it was a mistake. It doesn’t matter that it’s a good acting job. It doesn’t matter that there should be no way that a random Galra spy could guess at Keith’s feelings. And, more importantly, impossible to think this trick could ever work on Shiro. 

_Shiro will never love you,_ Keith reminds himself, not for the first time. _No one loves you._

But Shiro looks like he’s been struck across the face. He stands there, slack-jawed, his eyes wide. 

“Shit,” the other Keith mutters. 

“You’re— you’re saying that Keith and I—” Shiro fumbles. 

The other Keith recovers quickly from his shock, his smile returning. Something shines in his eyes as he takes a step towards Shiro and then seems to remember himself, glancing over at Keith. But Keith can’t move. He can’t stop looking at Shiro and his reaction. 

“Shiro and I aren’t together,” Keith finds himself saying, voice wooden and hollow even to his own ears. “We’re just friends.” 

The other him turns his gaze back towards him, something fond and indulgent softening his face. Keith hates it. He feels like he’s on display. He feels Shiro shift beside him. 

“I understand,” the other him says. He closes his eyes and hums, steadying himself. “Forget I said anything.” 

-

Shiro finds Keith later in the training room. Keith does a roundhouse kick and knocks the heads off two drones before he settles, sweating and scrubbing the back of his hand over his forehead, slicking his sweaty hair away from his face. He’s panting, his heart hammering away like a hummingbird in his chest. 

Keith freezes up once he realizes Shiro is there. After saying goodbye to the other Keith, Shiro looked as if he might have wanted to talk to Keith. But Keith had darted away instantly, fleeing down the hallway. 

It seems now Shiro’s done giving him space, though. And Keith doesn’t even have time to prepare; he’d been so focused on training that he hadn’t even heard Shiro come in. He has no idea how long Shiro’s been standing there. 

Aiming for casual, Keith gives him a little wave and says, “So, uh, earlier was really fucking weird, huh?” 

He hates that his voice cracks. He swallows thickly, his throat clicking. 

Shiro doesn’t smile like Keith half-expected him to. “Yeah,” he finally manages. “Weird.” 

They stand there in a stupid, absurd silence. Keith gets the sense that Shiro wants to say more but Keith can’t fathom what there is to talk about. _Super weird an older you thinks we’re together, huh? Like that would ever happen._ Something like that.

“You can’t seriously believe he’s just… me, after this,” Keith insists. “He’s— he’s clearly here to just… mess with people, right?” 

Shiro makes another strange little sound. He fumbles, a rarity for Shiro who’s usually so sure of his movement and himself. But it seems all he’s done is fumble, ever since this other Keith showed up. 

Shiro stares down at his hands and then up at Keith. 

“He’s just older,” Shiro tells Keith. “More self-assured, maybe.” 

Keith frowns at him. 

“Sorry,” Shiro mutters. “He’s really bothering you, isn’t he?” 

Keith’s heart does a funny, squirmy thing and he crosses his arms, looking away. If he’s honest, he knows that it’s his future self— he can feel it— but it’s acknowledging it that feels too strange. It feels too revealing, like he’s longing for so much. An older him. A more self-assured him. 

And Shiro, damn him, must know it. Gently, he says, “You know it’s just you… maybe ten or so years from now, don’t you?” 

Keith shakes his head. Maybe he should be reassured that he apparently survives the war enough to grow older, to be self-assured and—

“Happy,” Keith mutters. “He’s happy.” 

Keith doesn’t know how to think about that. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s felt genuinely, truthfully happy. Not that he spends every waking moment unhappy, necessarily, but it feels more neutral. He exists. He gets through. He does what needs to be done. 

But this older Keith exudes contentment. It just radiates off him. Like he knows exactly who he is and what he’s doing and never has to fear again. It makes Keith’s gut squirm with longing. 

Most of his happiest memories involve his dad, now faded with time. Or with Shiro at the Garrison, recent enough to still make him feel heartsick and happy, but maybe twinged with a nostalgia he knows he can’t get back now, not after everything they’ve been through and likely will go through. 

“Happy,” Keith says again, gripping his arms. “And lo— liked by everyone. Apparently.” 

“Is that a bad thing?” Shiro asks him. Keith nearly wants to snarl at him, too, to command Shiro to back off, to not dare try to reassure Keith. 

But then he just sinks into Shiro’s arms when he reaches for Keith to pull him into a hug. There’s nowhere else in the universe Keith would rather be, at any point, than in Shiro’s arms. Even agitated, even distressed, it’s easy to just melt into his hold. To feel protected and sure. 

This is what the other Keith wants, too, he thinks. He wants to be held by Shiro. 

“Is it a bad thing that you’re alive and happy?” Shiro asks him in a low murmur and Keith knows why he’d ask it, but Keith can never stand the idea of a future without Shiro. Of course Shiro would gravitate towards an older Keith— proof that Keith’s survived. That he’s alive. That he exists still. 

Keith can’t stand what Shiro doesn’t say— that Shiro would never expect an older version of himself to walk through the door— and it makes Keith tremble. He shakes his head and squeezes Shiro tighter, holding him close. 

They hold each other like that for a long time. At least until Keith grows self-conscious of wanting too much and forces himself out of Shiro’s arms. He pushes back, taking in a deep, steadying breath, and looks up at Shiro. 

“I look stupid with a braid,” Keith declares. 

Shiro laughs. “I kinda like it.” 

Keith sits with that for a moment, clearing his throat and ducking his head. 

“Not that— I like your hair now, too,” Shiro assures him. His hands ghost Keith’s shoulders, barely touching, but loath to let go entirely it seems. “It’s nice. I’d like it if it were short, too. Whatever you liked, I mean.”

If Keith lets himself think it, Shiro sounds almost shy, almost nervous. 

“So…” Keith murmurs once the silence stretches on too long. He glances up at Shiro and finds Shiro already watching him. 

“So…” Shiro parrots. “… I guess we get together.” 

Ice shivers down Keith’s spine like cold water. He waits for some reaction from Shiro, but it doesn’t come. He can tell Shiro’s keeping his expression painfully neutral, watching Keith like a hawk. Waiting. 

“I guess,” Keith hedges. 

“Does it bother you?” Shiro asks. 

What a question. Keith doesn’t know how to process it or interpret it. His hands feel clammy when he shoves them into his pockets. He takes a step away from Shiro and the hands on his shoulders finally fall away. Keith looks down. 

“Does it bother _you_?” Keith shoots back.

Shiro doesn’t point out that he asked first, which Keith appreciates. Instead, he hums, and it’s a sweet, sultry sound. It nearly eases the anxiety twisted up raw and coiling in Keith’s chest. 

“No,” Shiro admits quietly and it sounds overly loud in the quiet of the training room. 

Keith’s head whips up, staring at Shiro in shock. “No?” 

Apparently he’s incapable of speaking except to just parrot Shiro. But Shiro smiles at him, a little smile, something definitely shy now. He takes a hesitant step towards Keith before he pauses again, wavering between too-close and too-far. 

Keith finds himself tripping forward, swaying into Shiro’s space. His eyes are wide. He must look disgusting, sweaty and breathing too heavy and wild-eyed. But his heart is pounding and, damnably, something like hope is blooming in his chest. It’s a dream, maybe. Some sort of trick. The idea that Shiro could not mind, or, even more so, love Keith back—

Impossible to consider that anybody could care about him in general. Shiro’s always been kind to him, always put up with him, always considered him a friend. But to love him back? 

“Does it bother you?” Shiro asks again.

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” Keith gasps out, which maybe comes out a little overly harsh, harsher than he meant, and also easy to misinterpret. 

But then, Shiro’s always known him. He smiles at him, something like hope brightening his eyes, too. 

“I just hate that— that it’s _him_ who had to say something,” Keith admits, because it feels too much like meddling, too much like giving credit to someone he isn’t sure he trusts. “But it… the last thing it does is bother me, Shiro.” 

“Okay,” Shiro whispers and he looks wondering. 

Keith holds his breath. He waits. 

“I— I didn’t—” Keith stumbles. 

“Yes?”

Keith bites his lip, blushing, and admits: “I didn’t think you’d ever… feel that way.” 

“Oh,” Shiro says in a quiet voice. “I— oh. _Keith._ ” 

Keith closes his eyes to steady himself and breathes out again. 

“Shiro,” he murmurs and watches as Shiro blinks at him. Keith licks his lips and watches Shiro’s gaze slide down and land right on his mouth. 

And then, tentatively, Shiro leans down. He pauses halfway to Keith’s mouth, but Keith hardly needs more encouragement. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, and then hooks his arm around Shiro’s neck, maybe a little too enthusiastically, and yanks him in. He kisses him.

And, remarkably, Shiro kisses him back. 

It’s a firm press of their mouths together and Keith is gone. He might gasp. He might feel Shiro’s whispering breath ghosting his mouth as he kisses him. Shiro is gentle, focused and patient because of course he is, and Keith is all fumbling hands and chapped lips. He wants to swallow Shiro whole. He never wants to breathe again. 

He deepens the kiss with more confidence than he feels. He drags his tongue across Shiro’s bottom lip just to coax it open and clenches his arm around his neck, pulling him down close against him. He’s pressed flush to Shiro, worshiping his mouth. He never wants to stop. 

Shiro takes a breath and his hands fall to Keith’s hips, tugging him in closer. Every touch of Shiro’s body— hands, chest, lips— is a brand. Keith is on fire. He’s going to be consumed. 

Keith thinks they stumble out of the training room, but Keith isn’t sure. All he knows is that they’re out in the hallway and he’s pressing Shiro up against the wall and whimpering Shiro’s name as he kisses him and kisses him and kisses him. 

He feels a quiver of anxiety, worried he’s no good at this, that he doesn’t know what to do with his hands or his mouth, but it doesn’t matter. Shiro’s hands are soft on the small of his back, holding him close, kissing him with a slow, sensuous lick of his tongue into Keith’s mouth that makes Keith see stars. 

It’s blissful. It’s perfect. It’s everything that Keith’s ever wanted— Keith thinks he might actually start crying. 

When they pause for breath, it’s just so Shiro can press his forehead to Keith’s, his smile moony and sweet, eyes on Keith. It looks like the way the other Keith looks at Shiro. Like the way Shiro looks at the other Keith. 

“Keith…” Shiro murmurs. He leans in to kiss Keith again. 

Anxiety claws up Keith’s throat. He whispers: “I know you’d rather kiss him.” 

Shiro pulls back from the kiss with a grunt, blinking owlishly at Keith. “Who?”

“The other me,” Keith says, staring at Shiro’s kiss-swollen mouth and internally screaming at his propensity to ruin everything for himself. 

“Keith—” Shiro frowns at him, clearly taken aback by Keith’s words. 

But now that Keith’s said it, he knows it’s true. Of course that Keith is preferable— older, more confident, more beautiful, smiling at Shiro with such open affection that Keith can never manage. Everyone likes that Keith. He pulls everyone to him like gravity. Keith thinks of the way the other Keith looked at Shiro, seeing him for the first time. 

Keith shoves back from Shiro, tripping over his feet. 

“I have to—” 

He doesn’t finish the thought. He stumbles away from Shiro, ignoring him when he calls after Keith. He runs through the halls, blindly seeking a hiding place, and nearly crashes into his other self.

He stares down at Keith with wide eyes, but Keith doesn’t wait for him to say anything, ducking his head and running, fighting back the sting of tears. 

-

Later, it isn’t Shiro who finds Keith tucked inside Red’s cockpit. 

Keith looks up in alarm when the doors whoosh open and his other self comes walking in, looking around like he hasn’t been here in years. And maybe he hasn’t. 

“What?” Keith mutters. “Here to tell me I’m acting like a child?” 

“No,” the other him says. “I thought it might be good if we talked. And then if you talked with Shiro.” He tilts his head. “He was looking for you.” 

Keith grunts, pulling his knees closer to his chest. He doesn’t meet his other self’s eye. 

Gently, his older self says, “He’s worried he upset you.” 

“Oh, so you talked already,” Keith spits. His voice sounds far too acidic. 

“Keith.” 

Keith says nothing, feeling moody and stupid and childish. He feels petulant, refusing to look over at his other self. As he comes closer towards Keith, Keith just angles himself away, tucking his head down against his knees to hide his face. He tries to take deep, steadying breaths. 

“Hey,” his older self says. 

“What?” 

“I love you.” 

Keith freezes. Keith jerks his chin up, staring at his other self in undisguised shock and alarm. But his other self exudes serenity, as usual, leaning back against Red’s controls casually, like he’d just said something about the weather or food goo. 

There’s a long beat of silence before Keith can managed a hitching, strangled, “ _What?_ ” 

“I love you,” the other him says, somehow both casual and weighted, staring deep into Keith’s eyes. He lets the words simmer between them, twisting like a dagger in Keith’s gut. Then, damnably soft, his other self asks, “When was the last time you said that about yourself?” 

Keith feels himself grow defensive on his own behalf. His shoulders tense up. “As if you’d know anything!” 

The other him gives him a smile that, to Keith, just screams _of course I know everything, you fool._ But maybe it’s supposed to be kinder than that. Maybe Keith really can’t accept the idea. 

And, well. Keith really doesn’t love himself. He’s always known that. There’s very little to love.

He can’t tell if the other him is mocking him or not. Keith’s shoulders hitch up towards his ears, tense and defensive and unhappy. He crosses his arms for good measure, glaring at this other him. He feels small, tucked into Red’s pilot chair and staring at his other self. 

But the older Keith’s smile just gentles, something almost melancholy and nostalgic. 

“In time,” he tells Keith, “you’ll be able to say it, too. That you love yourself.” 

“Fuck you,” Keith mutters but finds his words have very little sting to it. There’s a raw emptiness in his chest, something ignited by the other him’s words. 

How easily he said it. _I love you_. 

“You better not tell me something stupid like how I can’t love anybody else before I love myself,” Keith snaps.

The other him laughs, shaking his head. “No. I wouldn’t. You— we love Shiro. We’ve always loved Shiro.” 

Keith swallows and gives a jerky nod. 

“It’s easy to love him,” his other self continues, his eyes tender. He sits down on Red’s chair, poised on one of the arms. He has a little bit of height on Keith usually, but like this he seems to tower over him. “It’s impossible not to love him.” 

“Yeah,” Keith whispers, his heart beating a little too fast. 

“But,” his other self says, “have you ever considered that he might feel that way about you?”

“No,” Keith answers, because that much is true. He’s never considered it. It’s still impossible to even consider he might have tricked Shiro into falling in love with him, too. 

The other him laughs, but it’s a sad sound. Like he expected that answer. 

“Well,” he says to Keith. “I hope someday you’ll be able to see what he sees.” 

“He wants you,” Keith mutters. 

“Well,” his other self considers. “He loves _you._ I guess it stands to reason he’d like all versions of you, even me.” 

“Don’t act like you’re—” 

“What?” 

Keith rolls his eyes, eyeing his other self. “You’re all… confident. And you smile more than I do.” 

_You’re happy_ , he thinks. 

His other self hums thoughtfully, his smile nostalgic. “Maybe. Shiro tells me I’ll look pretty when I’m older and have laugh lines. I think he’s just trying to make me feel better since I was much cuter at eighteen.” 

Keith really doesn’t know how to grapple with all the information his other self just dropped so casually on him. He gives the other Keith a perplexed look.

His heart leaps at the mention of Shiro, though. Another Shiro. A Shiro in the future. Keith might stubbornly grasp the assertion that nothing will ever happen to Shiro, but he feels his heart give a pathetic flutter at the mention of the future.

“You’re— Shiro is—” 

“Still alive,” the other Keith agrees, and Keith’s too relieved to be annoyed that he guessed what Keith wanted to ask so easily. His other self laughs. “Still finding ways to call me pretty.” Keith watches him take a deep breath and let it out again. “I’m not sure if I should say all this because of time and space… but.” 

“But?” Keith prompts.

His other self chuckles. “We got together shortly after joining the war with Voltron. Around this time, I guess.” He gestures to Keith. “And— we were together ever since. Sorry I ruined the surprise for you two.” 

Keith curls up further in Red’s seat, drawing his knees to his chest, gripping his hands tight over his shins. He must look pathetic and stupid. He must look like a damn child, sitting here with someone who’s far more mature, secured, and happy. 

Keith wishes he weren’t quite so unlovable. 

“I don’t get it.” 

“I didn’t either,” the other him admits, voice soft with sympathy. “It took a long time for me to understand why… he’d ever want someone like me.” 

Keith glances at him before looking away, staring down hard at Red’s paneling. “What changed?” 

“I’m not sure,” the other him admits. “I just… I trust Shiro with everything else. I thought maybe I could trust him to know his own heart, too.” 

“Oh,” Keith murmurs. 

They sit like that, leaving Keith to stew in the questions he wants to ask but is afraid to. His heart thuds in his chest, hammering away just at the thought of a future with Shiro. A future where Keith understands why and how he could be loved. 

Beside him, his older self takes a deep breath and then stands, offering his hand to Keith. 

“Come on. I’ll show you.” 

“How?”

“We’ll go find Shiro.” 

Keith wants to protest. He wants to hesitate. 

Instead, he reaches out and takes his future self’s hand. 

-

The older Keith doesn’t let go of Keith’s hand as they walk. Keith doesn’t protest it. There’s a strange sort of comfort in it; Keith can tell the ways in which he’s resisted his older self, refused to acknowledge him as an extension of himself. 

He wants to ask his older self again— _You really love me? How?_

When they turn the corner towards Keith’s quarters, Shiro is there waiting. He’s outside Keith’s door, arms crossed and looking so serious and so handsome as he frowns down at his feet, all that tension bunching his shoulders. 

He looks up as the two of them approach. 

“Keith,” Shiro says, eyes on Keith and only Keith. “Are you—” 

“He’s okay,” his future self cuts in, catching Shiro’s hand, too, and squeezing. “Come on.” 

He leads them both into Keith’s room, speaking and moving with such purpose that it isn’t possible to protest or interrupt him. The door whooshes shut behind them, bathing them in the dim light of Keith’s room. It’s strangely intimate to be here with both Shiro and another version of himself, standing in the dark. Keith feels himself blush but can’t quite manage to pull his hand away. 

Keith wonders if his eyes glow like his older self’s do in the dark, too, or if it’s only a trick of the light. He can’t imagine the reason that’d be. 

“Talk,” his older self tells Keith, nodding towards Shiro. He smiles up at Shiro, squeezes his hand one last time, and then lets go. “I’ll—” 

“Wait,” Keith croaks, unsure why he doesn’t want him to leave yet. 

_I love you,_ he’d told Keith. Somehow, it still rattles around inside him. Somehow, it’s an even more foreign concept than thinking that Shiro might love him, too. Somehow, it feels impossible to let go of him just now. 

Maybe there’s some strength having him near. 

Keith swallows, feeling too small, too childish. But his other self doesn’t seem to mind. He smiles and glances up at Shiro again. 

“Is that alright?” his older self asks Shiro. 

But Shiro’s only frowning down at Keith. He shakes his head a little and steps closer to Keith. 

“Keith, I—” 

Rather than hear the words, terrified to hear the words somehow, Keith hooks his hand around the back of Shiro’s neck and yanks him down, kissing him again. It’s strange to kiss Shiro in front of his future self, and yet, somehow, it’s comforting. Keith feels his future self squeeze his hand and it fuels him onward. 

This Keith knows him. There’s no one else who knows him better, except for maybe Shiro. In a wide, lonely, empty universe, it’s reassuring to know there are two people in this room with him who understand him completely. 

He’s trembling when Shiro cups his hips and kisses him back, tentative and slow at first, as if afraid that Keith will break. Once, Keith might have thought it annoying to be treated like he’s so fragile, but now it just makes Keith feel cherished— like he’s precious in Shiro’s sure hands. 

He wants to be precious. He wants to be loved. It’s all he’s ever wanted. 

Time seems to slow. He hears his other self shift back and murmur, “I should go.” 

But Keith tightens his grip on his hand. It’s a thoughtless gesture. He doesn’t know why he does it— the heat and heaviness of Shiro’s kisses are clear, and it’s clear what Keith wants, too. He can feel desire simmering between them, that promise from their first frenzied flurry of kisses. 

But still the idea of his other self disappearing through the doors is too much.

Keith breaks the kiss to turn to his other self, to meet his eyes. He doesn’t know what it is he wants, what it is he’s trying to say. Desire and neediness swirl inside him, something self-contained and cosmic. 

The other Keith seems similarly wide-eyed as he studies Keith. Then his expression settles into something more understanding. He stares into Keith’s eyes and Keith thinks he’s finally seen. 

“You want me to stay?” the other Keith asks. 

Keith swallows. He can’t speak, but he manages the smallest nod. His face feels bright red. He knows what he’s asking but he can’t help but ask it all the same. 

Maybe, just for a moment, he can be selfish. 

His voice sounds too croaky when he tries to speak, graveled out and husky. “Your—” Keith begins quietly. “Your Shiro, will he be— um. Is it okay?” 

Keith turns to look up at Shiro, his expression fond. “And he doesn’t think he’s kind,” he tells Shiro in a conspiring whisper, his mouth hinting a playful smile. “Isn’t that ridiculous?” 

“That’s hardly kindness,” Keith mutters. He doesn’t want to upset Shiro, future or otherwise. He bites his lip, feeling shy. 

“Well,” the other Keith murmurs. “We always have a reason, I guess.” 

Shiro laughs, something light and airy. He squeezes Keith’s hips. It makes Keith tremble, anchored only by the heavy touch of Shiro’s hands on him. 

“Keith’s amazing,” Shiro says, and then turns his head to stare into Keith’s eyes. “You’re amazing, Keith.” 

Keith feels himself tremble further. He’s never been able to handle any compliments Shiro gives him, any praise. It’s just as devastating now, feeling the heavy weight of his hands on his hips, the darkness of his cabin. 

“Shiro,” he whispers, voice paper-thin. 

The world seems to blur. Keith feels himself tilt up and kiss Shiro again. He feels Shiro’s hands on him. But he feels his other self on him, too. It’s a gentle touch at first, just a pluck of fingers at his red coat, working enough to ease it off Keith’s shoulders, coaxing him to drop his arms so he can strip. Keith trusts those hands on him, trusts that when he undoes his belt and takes his dagger, he’ll stash it away somewhere out of sight and safe. 

In the meantime, Keith keeps kissing Shiro, half-expecting Shiro to remember himself and want the other Keith instead or someone who isn’t Keith at all. 

The moment never comes. Shiro breaks the kiss but only so he can pepper kisses across his jaw. He sucks on a sensitive part of his neck and Keith gasps, the sound foreign and serene from his lungs. He’s never heard himself like this before. He’s putty in Shiro’s hands just from this. 

As Shiro presses ghosting kisses across his skin, Keith feels his other self move back, content to give the two of them space. But before he can get too far, Keith holds out his hand and catches him again. 

He draws his future self in close. 

It’s enough after that. Two sets of hands strip Keith down and lie him out on the bed. The amount of attention is too much. It’s Shiro, of course it’s Shiro, the only person he’s ever loved, even above himself. And then, strangely, a version of himself that can regard him kindly. 

It’s too exposing, really, too intimate. He squirms even as Shiro presses kiss after kiss across his jaw and down his neck. Keith reaches out blindly, pawing at Shiro to coax him from his clothes, too. He thinks his other self assists in that. 

“I- is this too weird for you?” Keith asks Shiro. He glances over at his other self. “Either of you?” 

Shiro shakes his head. His hand rests against Keith’s bare chest, just above his fluttering heart. “I want you to feel good, Keith. I want to be with you.” 

“You deserve to know how loved you are,” his other self agrees. He laughs. “I just don’t want to be a very uninvited third wheel.” 

Keith shakes his head. He swallows. “Um,” he whispers. He glances at Shiro and then back at his other self. “He— we might—” 

“Oh,” his other self says, seeming to get what he means. For the first time, Keith appreciates that— that of course a future version of himself would know exactly what Keith wants. His eyes sparkle in the dark as he crawls up the length of Keith’s body, eyes sweeping over him in a cursory sort of recognition— his body, his own body, from years ago, beloved and distant. 

“Oh?” Keith croaks. 

“I know what you want,” his other self says, smiling, and then dips down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He turns his head, smiling sweetly at Shiro. “You want Shiro to watch.” 

Shiro looks stunned, staring between the two of them. He swallows and Keith watches as his adam’s apple bobs. The desire is plain in his eyes, smoldering and igniting. 

And yes, Keith realizes. Yes, that’s what he wants. It’s strange to desire his own self while also feel strangely jealous, like he can’t possibly compare. Especially when his other self strips off his top and he’s more filled out than Keith, his shoulders wider. There’s a jagged, painful looking scar dragged across his right shoulder.

Keith touches it before he can stop himself, featherlight. His other self laughs and smiles, catching Keith’s hand and kissing one fingertip. 

“Don’t worry,” he tells Keith. 

Then he turns and tugs Shiro in closer, stripping him of the last of his clothes. He’s sure and solid and his smile is wicked when Shiro gulps again. 

“We’re going to take care of our boy, aren’t we?” the future Keith asks Shiro. Shiro nods and the other Keith glows. “Perfect. That means you’ll need to behave, too.” 

He pushes Shiro down so he lies sprawled out beside Keith. But Keith doesn’t get a chance to appreciate the feeling of his body flush against Keith’s before his older self is tugging him upright. 

It is, in the end, a better view. He can appreciate the sharp lines of Shiro’s body, how out of breath he looks just from this, the flush of his cheeks. The little curl of his white hair across his forehead, his kiss-swollen lips. Shiro, too, is precious, infinitely precious to Keith. 

Keith would give him the world. The universe itself. 

He glances at his other self and thinks they must have the same expression, looking at him. Devotional. In love. Now that Keith knows he can look at Shiro like that, too, it unfurls across his smile. He’s lost on Shiro. He’s always been lost on Shiro. 

Shiro’s smile turns shy. 

“Alright,” the other Keith says, smiling indulgently down at Shiro. “I know what you like. Do you trust us?” 

“Always,” Shiro agrees. 

The other Keith hums. “Good answer.” 

And then he takes up Shiro’s tight, long-sleeved shirt and coils it up. He takes Shiro’s hands and uses the shirt to tie his wrists together up above his head. Shiro blinks once but lets him do that. The hold is loose and Keith knows he could shake it off easily if he wanted. There’s nothing to tie his hands to above his head, either. 

But Keith says, voice commanding and authoritative: “You’re not going to take your hands away from there, understand?” 

“Yes,” Shiro breathes, blinking up at him in surprise.

Like this, he cuts a beautiful figure— luxuriating and poised. Keith watches the quiver of his stomach, the flex of his shoulders, the rise and fall of his chest. Keith can’t help but reach out and touch him. His fingertips ghost across Shiro’s skin, memorizing every dip and curve, every shape of a scar, the cut of his hips, the gentle curve of his cock. 

It’s a little overwhelming. Keith wants everything at once. 

The other Keith grins. He turns away, climbing from the bed quickly and moving to where Keith keeps his clothes. He fishes through it until he finds what he’s looking for. He finds a little scarf, something Keith never wears while out in space, but provided to him by Coran and Allura as The Paladins settled in. 

“This will have to do,” he hears the other Keith murmur, folding it up as he returns to Shiro. 

“What—” Shiro begins, but with his mouth open, he’s unprepared for when the other Keith slips the scarf across his mouth, between his lips, and ties it off behind his head. Shiro blinks in surprise. 

“Patience,” the other Keith murmurs, his eyes glittering. “Isn’t that what you always say?” 

Shiro gives a low, surprised whine. 

The other Keith smiles wickedly. “Yep, I know you like this— one of the first things you told me. And I know how loud you can get. But we’re focusing on him, aren’t we?” 

Shiro’s eyes widen slightly but it’s clear he likes it— likes that he’s restrained, likes that he’s made to be quiet, likes that, instead, the two of them can focus on _Keith._

So much of Keith’s worldview has shifted over the last vargas that he isn’t sure how to process any of this. Everything is new. Everything is a surprise. 

“There,” the other Keith murmurs, smoothing his hand along Shiro’s cheek. “Now… you’re going to watch me take care of him. And then it’ll be your turn. Do you think you’ll like that?” 

Shiro nods enthusiastically, his hands flexing above his head. 

His other self turns to Keith. 

“What about you?” he asks Keith. 

Keith nods without even needing to think about it. And then he groans when his other self cups his face and draws him in, kissing him. 

It’s nothing like kissing Shiro. Shiro is gentle with him, and despite the kindness with which his future self has spoken with him, he is unrelenting when he kisses Keith. He bites at his bottom lip and then sweeps into his mouth and all Keith can do is groan and cling to him. He thinks he hears Shiro moan, too, muffled by the scarf. 

Somehow, it’s easier like this— strange, for his first time to be this situation, but it just makes Keith feel hard and on edge. Every inch of him is on fire when his other self touches him, touches him just in the way that Keith likes, because fuck of course he knows.

And it makes Keith feel powerful, to think he’s doing this in front of Shiro, that he’s doing this because Shiro _wants to see it._ Keith arches a little, keening when his other self sucks on his bottom lip. He trembles in his arms. 

“Here,” his other self whispers against his mouth and draws away. Keith whimpers, but his other self just grins and guides him down towards Shiro. 

He brings him close to Shiro’s cock, hard and flushed against Shiro’s stomach. Shiro’s watching them, eyes wide and attentive, like he’s fighting all his self-control not to reach down and touch them both. 

“I think he’ll like this,” the other Keith murmurs and fists Shiro’s cock at the base, guiding it towards Keith’s lips. 

“Oh,” Keith whispers, overwhelmed. He’s never done this before. He knows he hardly has to say that for either of Shiro or the other Keith to know.

Still, he’s never been one to back down from a challenge. He licks the cockhead and Shiro gives a muffled groan. 

“Quiet, darling,” the other Keith coos, and the pet name lances through Keith. Longing blooms through him at the idea of calling Shiro that, of Shiro letting him call him that. 

He whimpers and lurches forward, taking Shiro’s cockhead into his mouth and suckling. Shiro is massive, he’s huge— God, Keith should have guessed as much, always imagined it was the case— and he can’t even begin to get everything into his mouth. He’s overeager. He sucks and licks and tries to follow the cadence of Shiro’s breaths and moans to figure out what it is he likes best. 

Beneath his mouth, the other Keith strokes Shiro’s cock, then leans in to lick along the shaft. The both of them move their mouths like that, all lips and tongue and breath. 

They do that together, sucking Shiro’s cock. Shiro moans sweetly above them and Keith feels powerful again, especially when Shiro’s hips shudder and he jerks up. Keith nearly chokes but he slides his mouth back then forward again, swallowing around him. He groans low in his throat, cupping Shiro’s hip and coaxing him up to stroke into his mouth. 

Beside him, the other Keith hums his approval, suckling at the base of Shiro’s cock and dragging his lips in slow, pillowy presses in a way that seems to drive Shiro wild. Keith can’t let himself be jealous of this Keith knowing everything Shiro likes because it just means he can learn faster, that he can be good. 

He kind of wishes he could hear Shiro tell him how good he is, but that’ll come in time. He feels Shiro move beneath the two of them and there’s power in that, too. He’s the one doing this. Both versions of him. He’s making Shiro feel good. Shiro wants to feel good because of him. 

Keith licks and sucks at Shiro’s skin, feeling the twitch of his cock against his tongue. He feels his other self working up the shaft, too, coming closer, and the slide of his tongue across Shiro’s crown. They lick and suck together, fingers curled around the thick swell of his cock. 

When his other self licks at his lip, Keith groans, losing focus. When he’s kissed, he kisses back, the cock between them, because he knows Shiro will like it. And, maybe, he likes it, too. 

When he licks forward into his other self’s mouth, he laps at the bead of precome on Shiro’s cock, too, and all Shiro can do is moan out Keith’s name. Keith does it again, flicking his tongue in little kitten licks across the shiny head of Shiro’s cock, and across his future self’s top lip. 

Just as Shiro’s about to come, his future self coaxes Keith back. His grin is impish, teasing and bewildering when he says, “Wouldn’t you rather he come inside you?” 

It makes Keith gasp, then moan with the deep, twisting longing inside him. Yes. Yes, that’s what he wants. He wants to feel the stretch and pull of Shiro inside him. He wants to ride Shiro until he goes blind. He wants to swear his love and devotion to Shiro, like this, joined together as closely as they can be. He wants to worship Shiro with his body,. 

Shiro seems to like the idea, too. He mouths around the scarf and whispers, “Let me—” 

“Not so fast,” the other Keith murmurs. He drops a reverent kiss to Shiro’s forehead. “This is about you, too.” He presses a kiss to the tip of his nose. “You don’t always have to be in control, Shiro. Let’s give Keith what he needs, alright?” 

Shiro looks torn between desire and being overwhelmed, but he softens when the other Keith presses a kiss to his scarf-covered mouth, teasing, and pulls back with a wink. 

“You’ll feel him soon enough,” he promises Shiro. 

Then his sure hands reach for Keith, arranging him so that he’s pressed against Shiro. Shiro makes a sound, staring into his eyes. Keith hears his other self moving around, finding the lube Keith shamefully purchased from the space mall with such swift accuracy that Keith actually manages a little embarrassment about it. 

But it’s worth it when he’s being fingered open by a sure hand, by a man who knows how to make Keith shout. 

Shiro mumbles something around his gag. It makes Keith laugh and, eyes glittering, Shiro joins him. Keith drops his head down, pressing his forehead to Shiro’s, and kisses him over the scarf. Shiro kisses him back, sloppy and restricted, but enthusiastic. 

Keith rocks his hips back against the fingers inside him as he fumbles with Shiro’s gag and tugs it down. But he doesn’t let Shiro speak, electing to kiss him instead, slow and sloppy. It’s blissful, to feel his own fingers inside himself, spreading him open, preparing him, and to feel the hush of Shiro’s lips against his.

It feels like Keith’s the one being worshipped. 

Keith pulls back from the kiss enough to press their foreheads together again, to feel Shiro’s breath against his kiss-damp mouth. 

He whispers, “I love you, Shiro.” 

It’s quiet, quiet enough that it’s only for Shiro. And Shiro beams up at him, his eyes shiny as he presses a sweet, tentative kiss to Keith’s lips. 

“I love you, too,” Shiro tells him and Keith wants to believe it. If his other self is to be believed, someday Keith will. 

Until then, Keith never wants to stop hearing it.

“You’re so beautiful,” Shiro tells him now that his mouth is free. “You look amazing. You feel amazing. God. Look at you.” 

The praise rushes over Keith and it makes him cry out. He arches. He feels the press of his other self behind him, leaning in and kissing his spine. 

Keith trembles, ducking down and hiding his face against Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro twists his head to press sloppy kisses wherever he can reach— across the shell of Keith’s ear, his temple, his hair. He whispers praise against Keith’s ear and it makes Keith shudder more than the precise slide of fingers against his prostate. 

When the other Keith withdraws, it’s only so he can cup Keith’s hips and maneuver him the way he wants him. Keith lets himself be manhandled, whimpering as he kisses Shiro’s neck. 

Shiro groans in his ear and Keith realizes belatedly it’s because his other self is touching his cock, slicking him up and guiding him to press back against Keith’s hole.

Keith doesn’t let himself worry— he trusts both of them, he realizes. He rocks his hips back and slides back onto Shiro’s cock. It’s thick and the stretch is nearly too much. Keith shudders, gasping.

“Take it slow,” his other self whispers as he presses an encouraging kiss against Keith’s shoulder. “He’s big. Take your time.” 

“It’s okay. You’re doing great, baby,” Shiro whispers against this ear and that makes Keith cry out again, the sound punching out of him at the sound of praise and the pet name. 

“He likes that,” the other Keith says simply. 

“Baby,” Shiro murmurs again, commanded, voice reverent. 

Keith fucks his hips back, letting Shiro’s cock slide home. It’s blissful. It’s perfect. Keith cries out, arching. He wants to always feel like this. He wants to never feel empty again. 

And like that, Shiro fucks into him. 

It’s everything. The slow drag and slide of Shiro’s cock inside him sends sparks through Keith. Keith knows he’s making too much sound— maybe he should be the one who’s gagged, maybe he should be the one tied up, he thinks he might like that— and he can’t control it. Every slide of Shiro’s hips up punches a gasp from Keith. When Keith rolls his hips down, when he’s filled by Shiro, that’s perfect, too.

And not enough. 

“I, um,” Keith says in a quiet voice, blushing. “Um— ugh.” 

“You can say it, Keith,” Shiro urges him, voice quiet and reverent. Now that Keith knows how to look for it, he can’t stop seeing it. 

Keith swallows and skitters a glance over towards his other self, then darts back to look at Shiro again. He hopes that Shiro gets what he means. Shiro smiles up at him but doesn’t say anything. Keith it again, looking first at his older self and then back at Shiro.

Finally, though, he gives up. “Ugh,” he grumbles. He glances at the other Keith and says, “You— you should fuck me, too.” 

He doesn’t wait to see either the other Keith’s reaction or Shiro’s, swiftly ducking his head down to hide against Shiro’s neck. He feels Shiro’s big hands drag over his body, soothing him. 

He feels the ghost of his other self pressing up against his back, a slimmer hand from Shiro’s stroking along his flank. It makes Keith start trembling. 

“Whatever you want, Keith,” his other self says and it’s still strange to hear that voice— his voice— saying his own name like that. 

It takes a moment but when he feels another cock press up against Keith’s hole, when it teases at his rim and stretches him nearly too far, to his limit, all Keith can do is throw his head back and moan, arching. 

It takes some maneuvering, some shimmies of his hips to coax two cocks inside him, but when they’re both seated fully inside him, Keith feels like he might blow apart. He feels like this is what’s going to make him come undone. 

Keith feels his other self fuck into him as Shiro rolls his hips down. When Shiro strokes back up, the other Keith draws away. It makes the points of contact too blissful, that swell and fullness inside him. 

“You’re so good, Keith,” Shiro whispers, awed and praising. His hands twist around above him, like all he wants to do is reach out and touch. 

Keith wants to chase that praise forever. He wants to be held down and worshipped. He wants to be fucked until he cries. 

He feels like he’s about to be there. 

His future self kisses the back of his neck and whispers his own praise and that feels almost as devastating. Keith shudders. 

He comes with a cry between them, shuddering apart. But his other self holds him up, body molding to his, and it feels, in its own strange way, like coming home again. 

He plucks at Shiro’s shirt, untying him, and Shiro’s hands are on him immediately. He kisses the breath from Keith’s lungs as Keith shudders through his orgasm, overwhelmed and blissed out. 

When the other two come inside him, when he’s filled, when he feels pulled to his limit, that, too, feels like a homecoming. He slumps backwards and knows his future self is holding him up, that another version of Keith is ready to make him feel good. 

It’s good. It’s so good. 

-

Later, after they’ve slept, after Keith wakes up feeling blissfully sore, he finds his other self already awake. He tilts his head as Keith gives a luxurious stretch and rises up, pushing his hair from his face. 

In the time waiting while the other two slept, the older Keith’s adjusted his braid and slipped pants back on. He’s fiddling with something in his hands. 

“What’s that?” Keith asks around a jaw-cracking yawn. He feels unhurried, the anxiety gone for now from his chest— no frustration, gazing at his other self.

The older Keith smiles and turns, uncurling his fingers. In his palm sits a wedding ring. 

It’s a simple silver inlaid with Luxite, unadorned and understated. Keith thinks it’s beautiful. He thinks the older Keith must think so, too, if his soft smile is any indication. 

Keith realizes he’s holding his breath. “We—”

“Yes,” Keith says, voice whisper-soft. “Hold onto him, Keith,” he tells Keith, his smile gentle as he turns the ring on his palm, then returns it to his finger. He tilts his chin over towards where Shiro still sleeps. 

“I don’t need you to tell me that.” 

“I suppose I don’t.” He sits in silence for a long moment and then says, “He’s the love of our life.” 

Keith turns his head, watching Shiro sleep, the slow rise and fall of his chest. He feels his own heart twist up into his throat, his body feeling constricted. “Y… Yeah. Yeah. He is.” 

“But still,” his older self adds, infinitely patient, “take care of him, but don’t forget to take care of yourself, too.”

“I don’t—” 

“Remember,” he cuts in smoothly, his eyes on his ring, thumb brushing over it absently, “that for everything you’d do for him, everything you’d sacrifice, he’d do the same for you. And remember that he would never want to exist in a world without you.” 

Keith’s breath stills in his lungs. He finds himself unable to think of anything to say. 

The older Keith just smiles at him. He turns back towards Shiro, brushing his hair away from his face with such reverence and sweetness that it makes Keith nearly embarrassed to witness it even after everything they’ve done. 

Keith just closes his eyes when his older self turns back towards him, cupping his cheek and kissing his forehead. 

“I’ll miss you,” he tells Keith. 

“That’s…” Keith wants to say _weird_ but he can’t quite manage it. It doesn’t feel true or accurate. 

Damnably or thankfully, Keith isn’t sure, the older Keith seems to understand. He smiles. 

“I sometimes struggle to see you in myself,” the other Keith admits. “I know it hasn’t been that long, but… Shiro says you’re still here and I want to believe him, but…” Keith shrugs. “Well. I guess that’s just what happens when you get older.” 

“You’re not that old. You’re like, what, thirty?” 

His other self laughs, his eyes fond. He puts his gloves on, then cups Keith’s chin and presses a sweet kiss against Keith’s unprotesting mouth. 

When he draws back, he winks at Keith. “Want to wake him up by sucking him off together?” 

“Oh. Oh, hell yeah,” Keith agrees, already turning back towards Shiro, ready to wake him up again, ready to seat himself in his lap and take him inside of himself again. He’s still wet and loose from before. Shiro will slide right in. Keith’s cock gives a pleasant twitch at the very thought of it. 

There are so many things he wants. And hearing his future self chuckle beside him, Keith lets himself believe he can have it all— that he deserves this. 

That, maybe, he is loved.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
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>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
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>  **ETA:** Please, please, please appreciate this absolutely STUNNING [nsfw art of the boys together](https://twitter.com/ribbitsplace/status/1305573323812859904) by Ribbit, Yuuya, and Shino. All the heart-eyes emoji!


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